


Reaching for the Light

by Krixel



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Canonical Character Death mentioned, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moonfam Things, Reunions, maybe angst?, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krixel/pseuds/Krixel
Summary: Something shivered in the darkness. Crackling energy electrified the air. The familiar crushing pressure of his prison, where his thoughts were his only company in a soundless eternity, trembled. Each second had been an identical lifetime from the moment Viren sealed him, unending and unchanging. Oppressive, lonely, suffocating. Alone. Something shivered in the darkness, and his world exploded.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Rayla & Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 211





	1. Reach out your Hand

Something shivered in the darkness. Crackling energy electrified the air. The familiar crushing pressure of his prison, where his thoughts were his only company in a soundless eternity, trembled. Each second had been an identical lifetime from the moment Viren sealed him, unending and unchanging. Oppressive, lonely, suffocating. Alone. Something shivered in the darkness, and his world exploded.

“Is he awake?”

The voice floated close to his ear, and he lashed out on instinct. His arm snapped to the side, clanging against the solid metal of plate armor and sending a painful shock through his hand. A blond head hovered above him as he opened his eyes, shadows and torchlight flickering across the planes of a human face. His stomach turned with familiarity. Not just any human. This one had broken his horn. 

“Soren, get away from him.”

“What? We’re supposed to be allies now, right?”

“We are not allies,” Runaan said, his lip curling. He forced his trembling muscles to support him and crouched before the humans, bracing his balance with his right arm while his left hung dead at his side. Another scan of the room deepened his frown. “Where is the dark mage?”

“Oh, uh - he’s not, he’s not here. We, um, rescued you from him.” The boy tugged on his red scarf as he spoke, looking anywhere but at Runaan.

Runaan’s brows furrowed as he stared at the boy, something familiar scratching in his memory. He’d seen this child before, but the pounding beat of his pulse against his temple made it difficult to focus. 

“Callum, did it work?”

Runaan’s heart stopped, his breath freezing in his chest. No. No, she shouldn’t be here. He meant her to go home, to be safe. His gaze snapped back to the boy. The human prince. He’d been with Rayla that night everything had gone so agonizingly wrong. “You,” he breathed, the single word dripping his fury. “I should have killed you.” 

“Runaan?” 

A slender figure moved in the doorway's shadow, and Runaan’s heart pounded in his throat. The dim light of the torches bathed her pale skin in an orange glow and set her white hair aflame. But those familiar purple eyes speared him where he crouched, and the guilt threatened to swallow him whole. “Rayla.”

Her face blurred as blackness encroached on the corners of his vision, and he swayed. Bursts of pain exploded across his body, burning like a dying star as his injuries ignited beneath the fading adrenaline. Weakness claimed him, and he toppled. A concentrated hurt bloomed in his right shoulder when he collided with the rough stone, and a cacophony of voices set his ears ringing. In all the clatter, a pair of hands found him and her voice gentled against his ears. “You’re alive. I can’t believe it.”

She soothed his tangled hair away from the sticky skin of his forehead, as he’d done for her so many times, and smiled down at him. Wet drops splashed onto his cheeks and he frowned. “Are you crying?” He asked, the world still spinning too fast for him to focus. 

Rayla lifted a hand and scrubbed at her eyes, sniffling once as she tried to drag her emotions back under control. “No.”

Runaan huffed a laugh, his eyelids drooping as the full weight of his condition bared down on his consciousness. “Of course not,” he breathed. “My mistake, little blade.”

Runaan’s eyes closed and his body went lax against the floor. Rayla sucked in a sharp breath, grabbing at his shoulders, but before she could start shaking him, a warm hand stopped her. Amaya stood above her and shook her head, signing something Rayla couldn’t follow. She looked across the room at Callum. “What’s she saying?”

“He needs medical attention, and you shouldn’t wake him.” Callum stepped closer but hovered with a healthy distance between himself and Runaan’s unconscious form. He’d met the man twice, and so far he’d threatened to kill him both times. “Soren, can you lift him?”

“Sure. It can’t be worse than the... last... time I totally didn’t drag him to the dungeon.” 

Callum and Rayla both glared at him, and Soren scratched the back of his head with a grin. “In my defense, he wasn’t our ally then.”

Amaya signed something else, and Callum’s shoulders dropped. Rayla looked between them. “What?”

“Oh, uh, she just said -”

“Callum.”

Callum sighed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “She said that he hasn’t proved himself an ally yet.”

“He will,” Rayla said, watching as Soren picked Runaan up and tossed him over his shoulder in a display that would leave Runaan seething if he were awake. “I’ll talk to him, and he’ll understand.”

“Because he seems the understanding type,” Callum muttered, bitterness seeping into his words. At Rayla’s look, he sighed and shrugged. “I’m sorry, I know he’s like your mentor or something, but he killed my dad. That - nothing changes that.”

Rayla’s shoulders curved forward, but she walked over and took Callum’s hands in her own, waiting until he looked up and met her eyes. “I know, and saying sorry won’t make it better, but you still fought to save him and I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

Callum’s expression softened, and he tightened his hands around Rayla’s, offering a smile. “He’s your dad. There was never another choice.”

“It won’t make up for what he did, and I don’t expect you to forgive him, but I want you to meet the side of him I grew up with.”

“Is that side less stabby?” 

Rayla nibbled on her bottom lip. “Well, no, but -”

Callum leaned in and cut her off with a quick, soft kiss, ignoring his aunt’s grin from behind Rayla’s head. “He raised you, Rayla. That counts for something.”

Rayla’s face blossomed cherry red, but she couldn’t suppress her wide grin. With a fond roll of her eyes, Amaya caught them both by the shoulders and ushered them towards the door. She signed to Callum, and he paled. “Right. We should catch up to Soren.”

“Yeah,” Rayla said. “Probably best Runaan not wake up with just Soren around.”

They paused as that thought lingered between them, and then as a unit the three broke into a brisk jog down the hallway.

__________

Sound returned first, gentle scuffing off to his left, like someone scraping their foot against the floor. The smell of black tea mixed with stone and the faintest trace of sweetness aroused his senses further. And then the pain hit. It was less of an explosion this time and more of a slow-rolling tide that started from the tip of his broken horn and swept downward, hitting every bruise and battle scar along the way. The groan escaped before his control reasserted itself, and the shuffling stopped. “Runaan?”

He’d believed her presence among the humans a dream when he’d awoken in the cell the first time. Turning his head with a slow, careful motion, he saw her perched on a chair near his bedside. The young human prince stood on her right, and to the left, a woman in full armor finished out the trio. Runaan was not sorry to note the absence of the blond crown guard. 

Though the walls were the same drab gray stone, Runaan now lay on a bed rather than the floor, and someone had pushed a table of various implements and vials against the wall. They’d moved him after he lost consciousness, but even with the sparse attempts at an infirmary, he recognized a cell when he saw one. He was no less a prisoner in a bed, and now they held Rayla. “I won’t help you,” he said, turning his attention to the wall and away from the daughter of his heart. “Your dark mage failed to sway me, and so will you.”

“What?” Callum said, and when his aunt signed to him he blushed red before paling with realization. “Oh. Oh, no. We’re not, we’re not here to torture you. We wouldn’t do that - well, I mean one of us did, not that Viren is one of us, and -” 

“Callum, you’re not helping,” Rayla said as Runaan’s eyes narrowed towards dangerous levels. “You’re not a prisoner anymore, Runaan. They’re trying to help.”

“Help? Humans help no one but themselves. This is a cell, correct?” 

“Well, we weren’t sure how you would react before we explained, and we didn’t want anyone placed in danger in case -” Callum trailed off and waved at the air with vague swiping motions. Beside him, Rayla rubbed her face while Amaya failed to smother a smile.

Runaan’s glare deepened. “I do not kill blindly and without purpose.”

“Okay, let’s start over,” Rayla said, holding up her hands and drawing Runaan’s attention away from what she assumed we’re creative ways to disembowel Callum. “Runaan, I need you to listen to me, really listen.”

Runaan met her stare with a guarded expression, his eyes flat and lips thin. Rayla swallowed, recognizing his refusal. Whatever reason the humans had for freeing him, and however they’d manipulated Rayla to trust them, he would save them both. This mess was his mistake and he would make it right. 

Rayla’s next words only strengthened his resolve. “The humans - at least these humans - they’re not our enemies. You can trust them.”

Runaan said nothing, but his expression shifted to open disdain. Beside Rayla, the prince clenched his hands. “I told you he wouldn’t listen. We already tried to convince him before, and he still killed my dad.” Callum turned and faced Rayla, reaching out and resting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I thought I could face him and try to understand, but I can’t. Not right now.”

Rayla gripped one of Callum’s wrists and squeezed. “It’s okay, I understand and I’m sorry. Wait upstairs, yeah?”

Callum retreated, leaving the room while Runaan’s teal eyes narrowed on his back. Amaya drew Rayla’s attention with a hand on her shoulder and motioned to the door. Rayla nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be fine. Probably better this way.”

When they were alone, Rayla turned on him with a glare that rivaled her mother, and Runaan’s heart ached. “Why are you so stubborn?” Rayla said, standing and pacing beside his bed. “Why won’t you just listen for once?”

“I am listening.”

“No, you’ve already decided. You always think you know what’s best, but this time you’re wrong. You’re wrong about them.” Rayla stopped pacing and stared at the wall, her voice dipping to a whisper. “Like you were wrong about me.”

The throbbing pain of his collective wounds was nothing compared to the impact of those words, and Runaan stilled. He took in a shuddering breath that had nothing to do with his aching ribs. She’d aimed for his heart with that strike, and it flew true. “Rayla.”

She refused to look at him, but her voice wobbled, and he suspected she was struggling to not cry. “I failed you, and I’m the reason they all died and I’d fix that if I could, but I wasn’t wrong, Runaan. We saved the egg. We took him home, and I didn’t do that alone. I couldn’t have saved you alone.”

Rayla looked at him, and as he suspected, her eyes sparkled with dampness, but she set her jaw against the tears. The expression drove another knife through his heart with its familiarity. So many times as a child - after she’d fallen from a tree in the adoraburr field and broken her arm, or twisted her ankle chasing Ethari’s Shadowpaw - she’d turned that stubborn stare on him and refused to cry. “You killed Callum’s father. I know it was our mission, and to you it was justice and he was a king and a killer, but to Callum and Ezran, he was their dad.

“The council, the General - they didn’t want to save you. You’re a war criminal, but Ezran’s the king now and he’s my friend. This all started over revenge and even though you took his dad, he didn’t want me to lose mine. The cycle has to stop somewhere. After what I did, I understand if you don’t trust me, Runaan, but you owe them enough to listen.”

The words sat with Runaan somewhere between his chest and his throat, preventing breath and halting words. He was not unaware of the precipice their relationship teetered on, or the knowledge that the damage rested on his shoulders alone. He needed to get his answer right. Rayla’s eyes bore into him, her own breath held, waiting for his response. With a slow inhale, Runaan nodded. “I disagree with many of your sentiments.” Rayla opened her mouth to protest, but Runaan held up his hand. “But for you, I will listen.”

Relief swept over Rayla’s face like the sun breaking through a storm, and her shoulders dropped. She took two steps forward, arms open like she intended to hug him, and stopped. The hesitation left a dark and bitter flavor on Runaan’s tongue, and he grit his teeth. With small, careful movements, Runaan eased himself into a sitting position, ignoring Rayla’s protest. He leaned against the headboard behind him, his breathing more rapid than he cared to admit. Rayla hovered nearby, hands fluttering without touching. When he settled, Runaan held his right hand out to her. “Come here, little blade. I have missed you.”

Rayla sprung at him, all of her hesitation slipping away beneath his offer. His battered ribs howled with protest when Rayla landed on him, but he ignored the pain and pulled her tight with one arm. There was too much broken between them for one moment to fix, but it gave him hope that the damage was not irreparable. Rayla let him go after several long seconds and tucked her legs beneath her, curling up on the corner of the bed and propping her shoulder on the headboard beside Runaan. He readjusted a pillow behind him and met her gaze. “All right, let’s hear of your adventure. I am listening.”


	2. Standing on the Edge

During her tale, Rayla shifted to sit beside him and pillow her head on his shoulder. The minutes wore on, and his earlier aches returned with vigor as he remained upright. He offered no protest, not wanting to disturb the delicate balance they’d restored, but measured his breathing to guard against the pained gasps attempting to escape. As she spoke of the Moon Nexus, and the humans she took there, his shoulder tensed beneath her ear and she stalled. Runaan struggled through a steadying breath, trying to ease both pain and righteous judgment. “Go on.”

Twice more she paused in response to his growing tension, but each time he prompted her to continue. When she spoke of the Silvergrove, her ghosting, and Ethari, he went cold. Ethari. A high pitched buzzing rang in his ears as his world tilted sideways for a moment. 

In the confines of his prison Runaan split his time between dwelling on his deficiency as both a father and a leader and recalling the exact moment he’d failed as a husband and made a mistake he could never set right - given a promise he’d sacrifice anything to keep. 

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Rayla asked.

Runaan tamped down on the insane urge to laugh at her question. Thoughts tumbled through his head like shards of glass, cutting fresh wounds with the jagged edges of his failure. Blinded by pride and buried pain, he’d forced death upon Rayla and called it salvation, offered revenge under the guise of redemption. The Silvergrove placed the weight of his mistakes on her shoulders and not even Ethari had spared her from judgment. His arrogance had laid waste to their family, and in trying to salvage an unfounded shame, he’d destroyed the foundation of their lives.

He could say nothing to that realization, so dug out the only words he could manage. “I promised you I would listen.”

And so he did. The Midnight Desert. His moonstrider. The Storm Spire. Lain. Tiadrin. The battle, and Rayla’s final act of absolution to save the dragon prince. When she finished, she sat up and pulled away from him. He resisted his instinct to drag her back and hold her close as the vision of her pinnacle dive played through his mind on repeat. 

The tension in the room buzzed between them, while Rayla stared at him with expectation. Runaan swallowed, careful not to take his tongue with the movement. “That is quite the story.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you, but it’s a lot to process.”

“Yeah.” The silence dragged on. Rayla tugged on a chunk of her hair and looked to her lap. “Please say something?”

Runaan sighed and rested his head against the headboard. The scrape of his single horn was a sharp reminder of why he couldn’t trust these humans, despite Rayla’s desperate plea. “I need time, Rayla. These humans, I can see you trust them, and perhaps they’ve given you reason to, but I cannot undo years of experience in a moment. Humans may have helped you, and they may have fought with Xadians for the sake of the dragon prince, and were it not for their intervention I would still be imprisoned, but humans also caused all of that strife. It is only ever humans who wage wars, if not against us than with themselves, and a handful of good ones doesn’t change that fact.”

“So you won’t help?” 

Rayla’s expression tore through him, the disappointment in her voice a well-aimed dagger. He’d say anything to erase the hurt he’d caused her, but he wouldn’t lie. “I didn’t say that, nor can I agree that I will. I need time. Besides,” he offered a rueful smile and tilted his head towards his discolored left arm. “My skill set and my ability to wield it are comprised. I’m not much benefit, regardless of my intentions.”

Rayla flushed and looked like she intended to object, but a knock on the door interrupted further comment. Runaan tensed, but forcefully uncurled the fingers of his right hand to rest flat on the blankets. He needed to try, for Rayla, even as every instinct inside him roared with protest. For her, he could attempt civility, and they had released him from that moon forsaken coin.

When the door opened, he expected the woman from earlier, or perhaps the human prince, even the blond guard, but not the young boy king he’d failed to kill. The boy entered and, to Runaan’s utter astonishment, smiled at him. The glow toad he held did not share the sentiment and shifted into a deep maroon. Behind him an older man entered, dressed in the brown leathers of a tracker. He too glared at Runaan. “Hello,” the boy king said. “I’m Ezran.”

“I know who you are,” Runaan said, and regretted it as Rayla glared at him, and the tracker adjusted to a more threatening stance. The unspoken understanding why Runaan knew him hovered between them.

Ezran only shrugged and claimed the chair Rayla had occupied earlier. “If I held it against every assassin sent to kill me, I wouldn’t get to call Rayla a friend.”

“I failed to kill you. Rayla made a choice to let you live. That is not the same.” 

Rayla gaped at him, and then lifted a hand and rubbed her temple. “You’re not helping yourself.”

Runaan shrugged his right shoulder, staring directly at the young king. “There should be no misunderstandings of my intentions that night. Had it not been for Rayla, I would have performed my duty.”

“Like you did my dad?” Ezran asked, but he did not break their gaze.

“Yes.”

Ezran flinched, but nodded. His face hardened with determination. “And now?”

Runaan stared the boy down, before reaching his own conclusion, and nodded. “Now, be it fate or accident, I am glad it was Rayla who crossed your path first that night and not I.”

Ezran’s smile returned. “I’m glad we get to meet again, with a fresh start.” 

Words had never been Runaan’s strength, and they failed him at the offer of a clean slate. Regardless of orders and cause, he’d killed King Harrow - Ezran’s father - and yet still the boy held out a hand for peace. Everything within Runaan railed against the action, his mind whispering treachery and lies, and yet the young king appeared earnest. “Why? By your laws, I am a king killer. Why grant me pardon when it should be death?”

“Runaan,” Rayla started, but he shook his head. 

“I want his answer.”

Ezran sat in silence for several long moments, his hand drifting back and forth along his glow toad. Finally, he looked back to Runaan. “As his son, I can’t say I forgive you. To me, my dad was, well, my dad. He was goofy, and warm, and sang me songs and played hide and seek with me and Bait even though Bait was really bad at it. You took all of that away.”

Ezran paused again, but shook his head when the tracker moved forward to place a hand on his shoulder. “But then I met Zym, and he was just a baby. He was cute, and sweet, and innocent, and he didn’t know how to do anything. He didn’t have a dad to sing him to sleep, or teach him to fly, or be there for him at all, because my dad killed his for revenge. And you killed my dad for revenge, and killing you for revenge wouldn’t bring him back, it’d just take you away from the people who love you too. So, that’s why, I guess. Because people I care about, care about you, and I can’t bring back Avizandum for Zym, but I don’t have to take you away from Rayla. It can end here, with you and me.”

“I see.” Runaan ran the explanation through his head twice more before he accepted it. “You may yet be a child, but you have the makings of a wise king.”

Ezran bowed his head. “Thank you.” As he lifted his gaze, his eyes fell onto the binding around Runaan’s arm and the obvious damage from it. “That’s still there because I’m alive.”

“A mark of my failure, and one I’m willing to bear. We all paid a price for that night. This is mine.”

“You’ve already paid enough. It shouldn’t cost you your arm too.” 

Ezran slid off the chair, still clutching Bait, and shot another smile over his shoulder as he headed towards the door. “I’ll be right back.”

As Ezran reached for the knob, the wooden door exploded inward, hitting the stone wall and bouncing back. Only the quick reflexes of the tracker saved the boy from a violent collision. He hauled the young king behind him and turned to face the intruder, but the newcomer didn’t even look in their direction. Honey brown eyes fixed on the battered assassin in the bed, and a sound, not quite a sob, wrenched from his chest. Curled within the bubble of that cry, Runaan heard his name. 

From behind the man in the doorway who stood frozen save for the trembling hand over his mouth, a woman in white robes with a pink stripe along her hood hurried into the crowded room. “Your highness, my sincere apologies. I tried to explain that he needed to wait, but I couldn’t stop him.”

The words stirred the man from his shock, and he sent her a reproachful look. “I’ve waited for him long enough, I think.”

The familiar brogue rolled over Runaan like a healing balm, soothing his shattered edges, filling in his missing pieces, and calling him home. A knot formed in his throat and he swallowed, horrified at the emotions pushing up his chest and towards his eyes, acutely aware of the gathered humans. His lips parted to speak his husband’s name, but he bit it back as something far more fragile attempted to escape. 

Faced with Rayla and the humans upon his release, Runaan’s instinct to protect her allowed him to cast aside his waiting trauma in favor of an iron shell of control. Ethari was different. His husband represented all the things Runaan fought to defend: safety, security, comfort, love. And he was all the things Runaan had knowingly sacrificed in the face of a doomed mission. He’d resigned himself to the emptiness of an eternity without Ethari, accepted it as the ultimate punishment for his crimes. Seeing him, whole and warm and real, emotions wavering in those amber eyes like the moon-called tide, demolished Runaan’s armor and left him defenseless. 

Ethari crossed the remaining distance, taking the briefest of moments to clasp Rayla’s shoulder in greeting, before he climbed onto the bed and gathered his trembling husband into his arms. Ethari tucked Runaan’s face against his shoulder, shielding it from view as emotions ravaged the usually stoic assassin, and held him tight enough to say that no one would take him away again. Runaan’s shaking increased and the cloth over Ethari’s shoulder dampened. 

As Ethari stroked his fingers through the tangled mess of Runaan’s hair, and his lips pressed to his husband’s ear, he murmured in low soothing tones of comfort. Neither noticed Rayla stand and usher the gawking humans from the room, but Ethari looked up when the door closed with a snick. With their audience gone, Ethari cupped Runaan’s cheek in his hand and eased his head away from his shoulder. Runaan blinked at him, eyes damp and disbelieving. Ethari smiled. “There you are.”

“How?” Runaan’s voice cracked on the word. “How are you here?”

“Rayla sent word when they found you, and I traveled straight here.” Ethari ran the rough pad of his thumb under Runaan’s eye as another tear escaped his husband’s blinking attempts to stall them. “I know you promised to return my heart, but I tired of waiting. Figured it best I come retrieve it myself and make sure nothing else happens to it.”

The words were soft, meant as a playful chiding but, against the raw nerves of Runaan’s emotions, they grated. Runaan turned his face away and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ethari. I did everything wrong. I should have listened to you about Rayla, about everything.”

Ethari caught his chin and eased his head up with a gentle push. Runaan risked a glance towards him, and Ethari leaned in to press their lips together. The tenderness spread through Runaan, burning away the aching cold of his isolation. He clutched Ethari’s waist as his husband deepened the kiss to lick across his lips. Ethari broke the kiss but pressed his forehead to Runaan’s and cradled his cheek once more. “There’s plenty of mess to sort out, but later, my heart. I lost you, and right now, I need to hold you and know you’re here.”

When Ethari’s hands slid down his shoulders and wrapped around his back, Runaan let himself fall. With some less than graceful adjustments, Ethari settled his shoulders against the headboard and pillowed Runaan’s head on his stomach. The tips of Ethari’s fingers played over the uneven remains of his left horn, and Runaan’s fist clenched. Ethari’s fingers halted and pulled away. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s not that,” Runaan said.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s one more thing I’ve broken.”

Ethari chuckled, his fingers finding a new purpose in untangling the wild mess of Runaan’s hair. “I suppose it’s lucky that you married a master craftsman. There is nothing you can break that I cannot fix my heart. Not even yourself.”

Runaan huffed, but the words did their job and tugged a reluctant smile from him. He stroked across his husband’s taut stomach, feeling the muscles twitch beneath his questing hand. “I fear this may be a lengthy repair.”

Ethari hummed low in his throat. “That means you must stay in my arms all the longer.”

“Quite the sacrifice,” Runaan said, his words beginning to slur as the methodical work of Ethari’s hands in his hair and the gentle rise and fall of his breath coaxed him towards sleep.

“Sleep, my love,” Ethari said. “You need to rest.”

“I don’t want this all to have been a dream. I can’t wake up and miss you again.”

Ethari’s hands flexed in his hair before he uncurled them and took Runaan’s hand from his stomach and placed it over the center of his chest. Then he returned his fingers to Runaan’s hair and resumed his self-appointment task. “This is real, Runaan. Feel me, my heart, my breath, I am right here, and I promise you, this is exactly where I intend to remain.”

Runaan held his hand over Ethari’s heart, matching his breathing to its steady beat. When they were in sync, he draped his arm across his husband’s hips. Ethari’s hands continued to pick their way through his hair, smoothing, straightening, and separating in practiced movements, and Runaan’s eyelids drooped. His last awareness was the light caress of his husband’s lips on the jagged edges of his horn, and he drifted towards sleep, still smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I originally had this marked as being done after this chapter, but I totally overestimated my ability to fit everything I wanted into two chapters, so it's going to be three. I promise that should finish this up though. Hopefully. Also, for anyone curious, the title of this fic and the chapters are all pulled from lyrics of Save Me by Skillet.


	3. Save Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said 3 chapters... after I said 2 chapters... so let's all just agree I'm terrible at estimating things. But! But, everything is written now, and the last chapter is an epilogue. All I have to do is edit it, which I'm going to try and do tonight, so expect the real, actual, honestly this time, final chapter tomorrow.

Tucked into an alcove along the ramparts, Runaan leaned against the rough stone and watched the courtyard far below him. The mid-day sun shone at its apex, but even its warmth failed to combat the biting mountain wind as it whipped through the crenelations. It tore at the neat plaits of his hair, styled that morning by the careful hands of his husband, and carried the scent of leaves just on the edge of turning. 

Runaan’s left arm rested secure against his chest, and much to his irritation, would remain so for the foreseeable future. Though freed from its binding by a fortuitous visit from the dragon prince - and Runaan had his suspicions about that coincidental timing - his arm still bore damage from the extended bondage. The doctor ordered Runaan to keep it in a sling until the worst healed, and he’d agreed, waiting until the man left before slipping it off and tossing it aside. The third time Ethari caught him without it, he’d threatened to weld it to Runaan’s person if he didn’t comply. With reluctance, he’d abandoned his attempts at losing the draped fabric and tried to focus on his relief that the limb remained attached. That Ethari spent the mornings brushing and braiding his hair also didn’t hurt.

A squeal of laughter echoed from the courtyard, and Runaan saw Rayla scoop the ever grumpy glow toad - they’d really named him Bait? - from the ground, while Ezran, lifted a squirming Azymondias - a fitting name for the dragon prince - and chased them across the square. 

On the steps leading from the front doors, Ethari sat with his sketch pad open, intent on whatever new idea spilled itself across the page. The human tracker - Corvus - sat beside him, eyes never straying far from his young charge, who’d just tumbled into a hay cart and was being fished out by the blond crowns guard. Soren, Runaan reminded himself, lip curling at the sight of him. Ethari paused in his drawing and tilted the pad towards Corvus. The tracker traced his finger over whatever design waited upon the page and said something that pulled a serene smile and nod from Ethari.

Runaan’s chest tightened. He didn’t find it surprising, the ease with which Ethari found friendship among the humans; he was Ethari. His husband charmed all who met him. It was him being there at all, among the humans, talking with them, laughing with them, accepting them. All while Runaan kept his distance and tensed, sending pain spiraling throughout his still weakened and weary body, whenever Soren strayed too close to the steps. 

The steady plod of footsteps approached and Runaan turned as the older of the human princes startled to a stop at the mouth of the alcove. “Oh,” he said, holding his hands up and taking a step back. “I didn’t realize you were up and about now. That’s - that’s good, you doing well.”

Refusing to admit that his being ‘up and about’ was less than sanctioned, something the building throb in his ribs worked hard at reminding him, Runaan arched a brow and inclined his chin. “Thank you.”

“Uh-huh. You don’t have any weapons on you, do you?” Callum’s eyes flickered over Runaan’s shoulder like he expected to see his bow appear, like this kingdom hadn’t stolen it from him.

Runaan leaned his shoulder against the stone rampart, attempting to remove pressure from his left leg, and tilted his head. “No.” When Callum’s shoulders slumped in relief, he added, “not that I’d need any.”

Callum took another step back, glancing in either direction, Runaan assumed in search of a guard, or perhaps a witness. He sighed, but resisted the urge to rub the pulsing tension out of his temple. “I have no intention of causing you harm.”

“Oh,” Callum said. And then, “that’s a first.”

“It is, isn’t it?” 

Callum frowned, bringing his attention back to Runaan. “I can never tell if you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Right. Well -” Callum hesitated, like he intended to say more, but then just shook his head. For the first time, Runaan noticed he too had a sketch pad tucked under his arm. Callum took another step away. “Anyway, I should go. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Runaan watched his retreat, an odd, uncomfortable weight settling in his stomach. He clenched his jaw. “Wait.”

This boy - human - meant something to Rayla, and while he refused to apologize for performing his duty that night, he could attempt civility. Perhaps if he attempted to acknowledge this prince, it would help mend the wounded distance he saw whenever Rayla looked at him.

Callum froze. “Yeah? Er, yes?”

Runaan inhaled a slow, deep breath as he gathered his patience. “Join me,” he said, wincing as it came out as more of an order than a request. “If you’d like. You have more claim to this wall than I.”

Callum looked around again. A peculiar expression crossed his face. “This is where we met.”

Runaan was well aware, and he nodded. “Met might be a somewhat strong word, but yes, this was where I nearly shot you.”

The reminder did not seem to comfort Callum, but with slow, hesitant steps, he joined Runaan in the alcove. He moved to the opposite side and sat down on a crate stacked in the corner. Runaan envied him for it, but maintained his own rigid posture. Callum placed his sketch pad beside him and looked out towards the courtyard where bright shouts and laughter echoed. “You could have changed things that night,” Callum said. 

“No,” he said, keeping his own gaze locked on the animated figure of his husband, chatting with both Corvus and Soren. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not? Back then, I didn’t know there was a history between you and Rayla, that you raised her. You wouldn’t even listen to her. How could you treat her like that? You saw the egg and still killed my dad.” Callum’s voice cracked at the end, and Runaan recalled the same anger from the boy when he’d first regained consciousness in that shoddy attempt at an infirmary. Right. This prince was not so forgiving as his brother.

Runaan measured his breathing and swallowed the needles of annoyance that pricked at his temper. “My relationship with Rayla is not your concern. Regardless of the egg, grateful as I am of its recovery, your father still murdered the King of the dragons. I was duty bound to deliver justice.”

“That dragon killed my mother,” Callum said.

Runaan sighed, regret for inviting the boy to stay twisting in his chest. Nothing about this conversation would end well. “Because the humans invaded Xadia and murdered one of its beings for its heart, for dark magic. Human greed drives this conflict, and yet when we respond, we are the monsters. I don’t know what else I expected from a human mage.”

“Hey, I’m not that kind of mage,” Callum said, jumping up from the crate. “I know the sky arcanum.”

“That’s right,” Runaan said, recalling the story Rayla had told him that first day of freedom. He rolled his right shoulder and tried to soften his voice. “Rayla mentioned something to that effect.”

Callum perked up, and Runaan’s eyes narrowed at the flush of color spreading over the boy’s cheeks. “She did?”

“Yes.” Rayla had gone into detail about Callum’s mage ability, now that Runaan thought of it, but the important parts, or at least the ones he cared about, pushed away his suspicion. He tipped his head back and stared at the sky. “You manifested mage wings and saved her life. You also used Ethari’s pendant to find out what happened to her parents. I’ll admit, you’re like no human I’ve ever met, and I owe you my daughter’s life.”

“So, you care about her?” Callum reclaimed his seat on the crate and leveled a serious look at Runaan.

Runaan snapped his head away from the sky, temper blazing to life. He glared at the boy. “What?” He said, slow and deliberate. “And I suggest you choose your next words with care.”

Callum swallowed under the threat of his glare, but held his ground. Were Runaan less incensed, it might have impressed him. Though whether he was driven by courage, or deep wells of stupidity, Runaan was unsure. Callum stiffened his shoulders and clenched his fists. “Rayla loves you,” Callum said. “When we went to the Silvergrove, and she realized you hadn’t returned, it devastated her. She felt responsible. She tried to hide it, but you, her parents, Ethari, you all left her alone. And even though you’re back, because of her - because she refused to give up on you - she’s still lonely, which means you’re still hurting her. So, with care, I’ll ask again - do you care about her?”

Runaan’s bones creaked as instinct fought with reason, even as he loomed over Callum. Below, Ethari’s voice, calling out to Rayla, drifted to him. Runaan latched onto the sound with every ounce of self-restraint he possessed and then stepped away from the boy. “We’re finished here.”

Sensing the real and sudden danger he’d put himself in, Callum nodded. He’d said his piece. He scooped up his sketch pad, but Runaan held up his hand and shook his head. “You stay.”

When Callum just nodded again, Runaan turned on his heel and strode away from the alcove, back towards his room. He’d been up too long, and if Ethari made it back to the room before he did, then his pain, building towards a crescendo, would be the least of his concerns. He slipped through the hallways and attempted to avoid the guards and servants roaming the halls. Even with the King’s pardon, Runaan’s presence did the peace of the kingdom no favors.

By the time he opened the door to his room, the entire right side of his torso burned like wildfire, and his left leg threatened to buckle with each step. The constant tingles and misfires from his left arm grated enough that, for a moment, he wished they’d cut it off. The tension in his shoulders crawled up his neck, and the steady thrum of pressure in his head amplified the words echoing in it. ‘You’re still hurting you. Do you care about her? Rayla loves you. You left her alone.’ 

Runaan grit his teeth and all but collapsed on the bed. Exhaustion and pain tugged on him, but even as he slipped towards sleep, the words burned behind his lids. Their truth weighed him down, pushed him deeper into the darkness, into the void his imprisonment created, and he wondered if they’d not all been better off with him lost.

_______________

The soft squeak of door hinges snapped him awake, and Runaan bolted upright. Starbursts of pain erupted across his body, and he dropped back to the mattress with the vague impression of his husband blinking at him from the doorway. Runaan swallowed a litany of swears as the door clicked shut, trying to find his voice before Ethari questioned his relapse into pain. A groan escaped instead of a welcome, and Runaan closed his eyes. “You’re still wearing your boots,” Ethari said mildly.

“I… am.” Runaan scrambled for an excuse, anything that did not involve telling Ethari he’d disobeyed medical orders once again, while cursing his own carelessness. Between reignited injuries and Callum’s accusations, Runaan had barely possessed the wherewithal to make it onto the bed, let alone properly. He draped his right hand over his eyes and sighed. “I stepped out.”

“I know.” Ethari crossed the room, set his drawing pad and charcoals on the desk, and sat down beside Runaan’s legs. He rested a hand on his thigh and pressed into the muscle, huffing when Runaan flinched away from the pain. “I saw you on the ramparts.”

“Oh.”

Ethari chuckled as he worked his fingers into the disobedient muscle of Runaan’s thigh. “I always know when you’re around, heart. You’re not as subtle as you think when you’re staring at me.”

“Well, it’s your own fault.” Runaan gritted his teeth, breathing through a spike of pain as Ethari gave him no quarter on massaging out the stubborn cramp. “What else would I look at when you’re an option?”

“Ah, you think you can charm your way out of trouble, do you?”

“It seemed worth an attempt.”

Ethari shifted, pulling his leg onto the bed and twisting to face Runaan. “You worry me senseless.”

“I know.” Runaan eased himself up, slower and more mindful of the twinges and flares in his body, and reached for Ethari’s hand. “I am sorry. I just needed some air. Sometimes being alone, staring at these four stone walls, there are moments it reminds me too much of things I’d rather forget. I needed to open the door and walk outside.”

The lines in Ethari’s forehead smoothed, and his husband dipped his head to press a kiss to the back of Runaan’s hand. “Remaining here is not good for you, is it?”

“There are many unfortunate memories tied to these people and this place, but having you with me makes it better, less overwhelming.” Runaan squeezed his hand. “I’m all right.”

“We will leave as soon as you’re able to travel, which will happen quicker if you stop being such a stubborn patient.” Ethari punctuated his statement with a soft, chaste kiss that told Runaan his husband forgave him. “Should we talk about Callum?”

Runaan tensed, ignoring the wave of pain that triggered, and struggled to keep his voice even. “What about him?”

Ethari’s dark brows lifted, and he scooted closer, tracing mindless patterns along the bare skin of Runaan’s right arm to soothe him. “I saw him with you today. I thought perhaps things had improved between you both, but your reaction is telling me that’s not the case. What happened?”

“Nothing of note. In the boy’s eyes, I committed an unforgivable sin, and that’s all there is to it.”

Ethari reached out and caught Runaan’s chin, easing his head back from where he’d turned away. “Don’t pull away from me, Runaan. What did he say that upset you?”

Runaan glared but did not force himself away from Ethari’s hands. He’d thought his husband’s touch lost to him for too long to not cherish every familiar feel of those calloused fingers against his skin. “The words of a human child cannot upset me.”

“Runaan.”

He held Ethari’s stare for another moment before his fight faded under those honey eyes, and his shoulders slumped. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Ethari’s collarbone so he wouldn’t have to see his husband’s face with his next question. “Do you think I’m hurting Rayla?”

“What? Oh, my heart.” Ethari wrapped one arm around Runaan’s waist, and rubbed soft circles along his back with the other, but before he could answer someone knocked on the door, soft and tentative. Ethari held Runaan tighter. “That would be Rayla. I’ll tell her you’re not feeling well.”

As Ethari stood to get the door, Runaan grabbed his wrist. “No,” he said, staring down at the plain gray duvet as he worked to rein in his emotions. “Let her in. I need to talk to her.”

Ethari hesitated, his gaze flicking between the door and the still bowed figure of his husband. “Are you certain now is the best time?”

“No,” Runaan said. “But this unspoken moment between us has gone on long enough. She deserves the truth of that night. You both do.”

“I don’t like where this is going, Runaan.”

Runaan took in Ethari’s expression, and his own lips twisted in a bitter smile at the concern. “I am certain you’re going to like the truth of it even less, but it’s time I face up to what I did. Get the door, Ethari. Please.” Ethari continued to stare at him, wanting to protest, so with as much gentleness as he could manage, Runaan added, “I need this. She and I both do if we’re ever going to move forward.”

“Okay,” Ethari said. “All right.”

He crossed to the door and opened it, revealing a hunched Rayla. She was picking at a crack in the floor with the toe of her boot and when she saw Runaan she wrapped her arms around herself. She looked nothing like the vibrant, laughing girl she’d been in the courtyard an hour earlier. It rended his heart. As much as he’d contemplated throwing Callum from the battlements for his lecture, the boy was right. He’d hurt Rayla, was still hurting her, and he needed to fix it. Ethari ushered her inside, nearly sweeping her off her feet with his greeting hug. When he set her down, Rayla perched on the edge of the bed near Runaan’s feet, and bit her lip. “How’s your arm?”

Runaan blinked at the mundane question, his brain tripping as it switched gears away from his intended conversation. “Still attached,” he said. “For better or worse, depending on the moment.”

At her startled expression, Runaan smiled. “I’m joking, mostly. I am grateful to still have my arm, just impatient with its healing. I’ve never handled the ‘waiting to heal’ part of injuries well.”

On the other side of the room, where he’d taken a seat at the desk, Ethari snorted. Runaan ignored him and kept his gaze on Rayla. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Nothing new to report,” she said, tucking her hands beneath her as she stared at the wall above Runaan’s head.

Runaan’s chest cracked open at her nervous fidgeting, and his gaze strayed towards Ethari. His husband was doing an admirable job of pretending to sketch, but he looked up to meet Runaan’s eyes the moment they fell on him. Ethari tilted his head the smallest fraction towards Rayla, and Runaan set his jaw. “Little blade,” he said, and waited until Rayla lowered her head enough to see him. “How are you?” he asked again.

Rayla’s bottom lip trembled, and she bit it to stop its wobble. Her purple eyes skittered away from him again, and if her shoulders bunched any higher, they’d meld with her ears. “I miss you,” she said, and a muscle flinched in her jaw. “I mean, you’re here, but I - nevermind. It’s stupid.” 

“Your feelings are not stupid,” Ethari said.

Rayla looked at him, and then Runaan for confirmation. He nodded to her and felt the smallest knot loosen as her shoulders relaxed. “We keep not talking about it,” she said. “But I see it every time I’m here. When I look at you, I know how much I disappointed you, what you suffered because I failed, and I can’t figure out how to make it right.”

“If I -” he started, pausing as her words processed. “Wait, what? You believe I’m upset with you?”

“How could you not be?” Rayla pulled her legs onto the bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. She rested her chin on them and looked anywhere but at Runaan. “I said I wasn’t sorry for what I did, but I am. Not for finding the egg, or helping Callum and Ez, but I had a duty. After I got them out of the castle, I should have gone back. I should have tried to find you.”

“No,” Runaan said, and the sharpness of his tone made her flinch. Runaan closed his eyes and pulled in a slow breath to settle the burning spike of fear at her words. “No, Rayla. I’m glad you didn’t come back.”

Those words did not have the effect he’d intended, and Rayla squeezed herself into an even more ball-like shape as she dropped her forehead to her knees and hid her face. When she spoke, he heard the muffled quality of repressed tears. “Because I’d have messed that up too,” she said. “Runaan, I’m so sorry. I’m a disappointment to everything you ever taught me. It’s no wonder you must hate me.”

Runaan shook his head as he waded through dumbfounded shock for something to say. He’d known his words and actions had hurt her. That’d been the intent. Rayla was stubborn, and as Ethari so often reminded him, good-hearted. If she’d known his plan, the undeniable outcome his actions would bring, she’d have stayed and died with them. Of that, he was certain. So, he’d selected the weapon that would hurt her the most, and wielded it with expert accuracy. He’d expected her anger, a lashing storm of betrayal and mistrust that he deserved. He hadn’t expected her guilt. “Oh, little blade,” he said, wanting to reach out but fearing he’d only cause greater harm. “I could never hate you.”

Rayla peeked up at him through long lashes. He saw the sparkle of dampness from her unfallen tears, the red rim of her eyes, and he knew. “Then why?” she said, her voice barely cresting a whisper. “You attacked me, threatened to kill me.”

“What?” Ethari said, soft and breathless like he hadn’t meant to speak. 

Runaan closed his eyes. As Ethari stood from the desk chair and claimed a spot on the far edge of the bed, his firm hands prompting Rayla out of her ball and against his side, Runaan’s pulse slowed. His breath came easier. Those words were spoken, finally. It was a strange relief, knowing the anger and condemnation that awaited him from the people he loved, but at least he was no longer suffocating. Opening his eyes, Runaan looked first to Ethari. His husband stared back at him with wide eyes, their warmth shadowed by weary confusion. Runaan shook his head and turned his attention to Rayla. She hid her face against Ethari’s shoulder; wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. “Rayla,” Runaan said, easy and gentle. “Can you look at me?”

She didn’t respond at first, and Runaan refused to push her. She’d either listen to him, or she wouldn’t, and honestly, he didn’t deserve the former. Ethari leaned down, whispered against her ear, and she nodded. Then she turned her head and met Runaan’s stare. “Why?” she asked again.

“Nothing I say can erase the damage I caused you, and I understand that,” Runaan said, speaking each word with a slow and careful awareness. “In those moments, there was no other recourse. This isn’t an excuse, but an explanation. My actions and my choices damned us. We would see the mission through, and we would die doing it. There was no escape plan, no clever out to conjure, just the mission and our fates. My team was skilled enough, I was strong enough, to do it without you. Whatever you believe, you were on that mission because of me. I put you there, and we were all going to die. I can bear a lot, Rayla, but not your blood on my hands. I meant to hurt you, make no mistake, but not because you disappointed me, and certainly not because I hated you. You are my daughter, and I love you. So, I drove you away with what would work, and if that meant I died with you hating me, but surviving, it was more than a fair price.”

Rayla shifted, pulling her arms away from Ethari and sitting up to face Runaan. “You did it to protect me.”

Runaan nodded, but before he could respond, Rayla dove across the bed at him. Her arms locked tight around his protesting ribs and squeezed. Runaan sucked in a sharp breath at the pain but pulled her closer. He dipped his head and kissed her between her horns. “I’m so sorry, my little blade.”

“I forgive you.”

The words, simple and said with ease, rolled over Runaan like the power of the full moon. “Thank you.”

Rayla peered up at him, and her eyes sparkled not with the threat of tears, but with the glowing mischief he had so desperately missed. She grinned. “Of course. I love you.”

Runaan squeezed her one last time before releasing her. “I love you too. Now then, I believe you and I need to talk about Callum.”

“Callum?” Rayla said, her expression turning wary. She sat up, her brow furrowing, and then her eyes blew wide and she yelped. “Oh, no. Callum! I was supposed to meet him. I have to go.”

Rayla jumped up, pausing long enough to kiss Runaan on the cheek, and then again Ethari, before she darted from the room, ignoring Runaan’s startled “Rayla,” as she fled. Ethari chuckled, watching her go, before returning his attention to his husband. He shifted up the bed, rolling over to stretch out next to Runaan and pulling him against his side. “I was wondering when you’d piece that together.”

“They’re hardly subtle. I have to give the boy some credit. He cares about her enough to risk shouting at me.” Runaan rolled onto his side, resting his head on the crook of Ethari’s shoulder and draping his arm across his waist. “How long?”

Ethari shrugged, the movement jostling Runaan, so he readjusted his head onto Ethari’s chest. “I’m not sure. I had my suspicions the first time I saw them together, but I don’t think they’d quite figured it out yet. Does that mean you approve?”

Runaan snorted, tipping his head up to nip at the underside of Ethari’s chin. “Of course not.”

Ethari tugged on his ponytail in retaliation, but couldn’t suppress his laughter. “He’s a good person, heart, and he’s good for Rayla. You should give him a chance, or at least give them a chance by keeping your opinion between us.”

“You like him then?”

“I do.”

Runaan huffed and buried his face against Ethari’s chest. “Then what choice do I have,” he muttered, earning another tug on his ponytail.

The two of them lay together in content silence, Ethari’s fingers playing along Runaan’s arm, his side, through the strands of his ponytail, while Runaan closed his eyes and listened to Ethari’s heartbeat. Runaan tilted his head and kissed Ethari’s chest once, twice, and then he inhaled. Ethari’s hand cupped around his bicep, and Runaan heard the laughter in his voice. “Ah, here it comes.”

“What?”

“Say what you are going to, love. I have my answer ready.”

Runaan poked him in the side, but the levity fled from his expression. “Why are you not angry with me? You told me not to take Rayla, but I thought I knew better, and when it all went wrong, I attacked her with the weapons you gifted to me to protect. I threatened to kill her.”

“Runaan, look at me.” Ethari made no move to force his head up, but waited as Runaan propped himself onto his right arm and looked down at him. Ethari lifted his hand and cupped Runaan’s cheek, running his thumb along the edge of his markings. “There is nothing you could do that would compromise my love for you, or my opinion of your heart. You were willing to do whatever it took to make her leave. To get her away from a mission where everyone else was lost, and you were tortured. You hurt her to save her life, Runaan. How could I ever be angry at you for saving our daughter?”

Runaan turned into Ethari’s palm, brushing his lips against it, and then, using his temporary height advantage, leaned over to press his mouth against Ethari’s in a more demanding kiss. Ethari’s hand slid from his cheek to his arm, and he levered himself to his elbows to meet Runaan. Their lips clashed, but Runaan surrendered to his husband’s skillful tongue, and the sharp bite of pain from Ethari’s teeth in his lower lip. Strong hands, that had held him with caution and care since his release, dug into his arm with a rough need that made Runaan groan. He pulled back, panting, a lopsided smile on his face. “You’re perfect.” 

“I am,” Ethari said, grinning. “Now, get back down here. I’m not done holding you yet.”


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it? Can it be? The actual final chapter? Yes! Yes, it is. Also, Chapter 3 was posted yesterday, so head's up if you missed it. You're going to want to read that before starting this one. Anyway, please enjoy!

“Runaan?”

He blinked and raised his head. Ethari stood in the doorway holding another sack to add to their growing pile by the door. He rolled his eyes. “We’re going to need a caravan to carry this back home.”

Ethari chuckled and stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind him. “Be nice,” he chided, and set the small cloth sack down among the other bags. “Those are jelly tarts. A gift from his majesty, specifically to enjoy as a peace offering. Also, they’re amazing - a direct quote, but one I can confirm.”

With an amused huff, Runaan returned his focus to pulling on his boot, a task made more difficult by his faulty left arm. The doctor had cleared him to release it from the sling a few hours each day, allowing he obeyed instructions and did not attempt too strenuous an activity. He hadn’t categorized getting dressed as a strenuous activity, but as his fingers fumbled over the edge of his boot for the fifth time, he blew out a breath and flopped backwards onto the bed. Ethari’s muffled laughter tugged a scowl from him. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

Ethari walked over and knelt in front of him, tugging Runaan’s boot into place with quick, sure gestures. He ran his fingers along the line where boot met thigh and kissed the inside of Runaan’s knee. “I’m not laughing at your situation, my heart, merely your dramatics over it.”

Runaan lifted his head, but his glare melted into a helpless smile at Ethari’s grinning face. Runaan sat up and pressed a kiss to Ethari’s forehead. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Hmm, does that make me lucky or you?” Ethari asked, tilting his head up for a proper kiss.

Runaan obliged, keeping the brush of their lips soft, despite a craving to do otherwise. The faster they finished packing, the faster they’d have several days alone to get reacquainted without the threat of young kings or teenage elflings bustling through their door. Standing, Runaan offered Ethari a hand. Once his husband was upright, Runaan turned his attention to the sheathed short sword lying on the bed. 

It was a straightforward blade, simple but well balanced. Its weight leaned towards the heavier side than Runaan preferred, but he’d adapt. Ethari had spoiled him over the years with his expert craftsmanship, so Runaan often forgot the clunkiness of standard-issue weapons. “It was the best one they had,” Ethari said over his shoulder. “Trust me, I checked them all.”

Runaan nodded and picked it up, testing its balance despite having memorized it. “Your judgment was never in question,” he said, studying the buckles on the sheath to determine the best way to get it over his shoulder and latched without total catastrophe. “There’s a reason I asked you to go for me.”

Ethari hummed low in his throat, moving behind Runaan and pulling him against his chest. His breath whispered over Runaan’s ear as he spoke, triggering a not-unwanted shiver. “Because you have such an appreciation for my… skill set.”

Runaan sank his teeth into his tongue to stifle the noise that wanted to escape, and with monumental reluctance stepped free of his husband’s warmth. “Oh, I do,” he said, brushing the pads of his gloved fingers along the edge of Ethari’s cheek in apology. “I can’t wait to show you my appreciation for that skill set, but Rayla will be here soon. Help me with this?”

Ethari’s eyes glittered, but he accepted the sword and made quick work of securing the metal buckles across Runaan’s chest. When he finished, he rested his hands on either side of the strap and stared at Runaan. “Perhaps we should reconsider Ezran’s offer, or stay longer.”

Runaan pressed forward on his toes and kissed Ethari again. “No. Soldiers traveling with us would be more of a risk, not less. They’re loud, and they’d slow us down, draw more attention. Besides, I’m certain several of them hold a grudge towards me, and there are enough things in the shadows to worry about without a knife from behind. It’s better if it’s only us.”

Ethari’s gaze flicked towards Runaan’s left arm and back to his face. “I worry about you,” he said. “You’re strong, and you’re capable, I’m not doubting that, but you’re also a long way from your best. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“I may not be at my best, but not my best is plenty dangerous to most things.” Runaan cupped Ethari’s cheek and offered a rare, almost arrogant grin. “I’m only sorry I have to make do with this pitiful excuse for a human sword rather than one of Elven-make. Though, I hear there’s a Master Craftsman in the Silvergrove whose weapons are of the highest caliber, both beautiful and uniquely functional - catered specifically to their user if he really likes you. Perhaps I’ll visit him when we return.”

Ethari’s own smile bordered on smug as he tugged Runaan close. “He might already have something in mind, depending on your good behavior.”

Runaan opened his mouth to say something distinctly inappropriate when there was a knock on the door. He dropped his head against Ethari’s shoulder for a moment, muttering a curse, and then straightened up. “Her timing is exquisite.”

“Well, the best assassin in the Silvergrove trained her,” Ethari said with a laugh. He kissed Runaan on the tip of his nose and stepped away.

Runaan opened the door, nodding to Rayla as she slipped past him and dropped onto the end of the bed. Her eyes tracked Ethari through the room as he picked up the last few odds and ends that hadn’t made it into a bag yet. “You two are really leaving today?”

Exchanging a brief glance with Ethari, Runaan sat on the bed next to Rayla and nodded. “We are. It’s time for us to return home.” When Rayla said nothing, Runaan cleared his throat. “You can return with us. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Rayla said, and it sounded very much like she did not. “With everything that has happened, I’m not ready to go back. Not yet.”

“I understand,” Runaan said. He nudged her with his shoulder. “But I want you to know, you always have a home with us, Rayla.”

Rayla smiled and leaned into his side, wrapping her arms around him. She rested her chin on his shoulder and shot a wink at Ethari. “So, that means I can bring Callum to dinner, then?”

“You,” Runaan said, returning her hug, “are welcome to risk his life in whatever way you please.”

“Is that a threat or were you intending to cook?” Rayla shot back. She yelped, scurrying off the bed to hide behind Ethari, as Runaan swiped for her.

Ethari glanced over his shoulder at her and lifted a brow. “Don’t bring me into this,” he said. “You started it with him.”

Rayla hugged Ethari from behind and peeked around his arm. The craftsman sighed and looked towards his husband, who’d stalked to the middle of the room and was glowering at them both. He shrugged. “It can’t be helped, love. She’s got me right and truly captured. You’re just going to have to surrender.”

Runaan clung to his glare for a few seconds longer before it cracked beneath an exasperated smile. He held up his hands, ignoring the twinge in his left as it protested the movement. “You two have me at a disadvantage, I admit.” 

Rayla grinned with her victory, gave Ethari a final, grateful hug, and returned to Runaan. He draped his arms around her shoulders as she hugged him, lifting an eyebrow as her expression dropped. “What is it?”

“Are you going to be all right? Making the trip, I mean?”

Runaan’s expression softened, and he tugged gently on a strand of Rayla’s hair. “We’ll be fine, little blade.”

Rayla’s eyes flicked to the hilt of the short sword that peeked over his shoulder, but she didn’t comment. With a tight squeeze that nearly re-cracked his ribs, Rayla pulled out of the hug and tucked her hands behind her back. “Ez and some others are waiting for you downstairs. They wanted to say goodbye. I thought I’d tell you, so you didn’t walk into a swarm, but I’m going to go down with them. You’ll be down soon?”

“Give us a few more minutes and we’ll meet you there,” Runaan said. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Only you take people wanting to wish you off as a warning,” Rayla said, heading out the door with a last wave.

After a moment, Ethari wrapped an arm around his waist and followed his gaze to the door. “She’ll be fine. She’s got all the best parts of you to guide her.”

Runaan rested his head on Ethari’s shoulder. “No. She’s better than I could ever be,” he said. “I taught her skills, you gave her your heart.”

“Charmer,” Ethari murmured, jostling him lightly. He stepped away and headed for the stack of bags, beginning to load several onto his shoulders. “Now, come on, or at the rate we’re going, we’ll never leave this room.”

And were it not for the knowledge Rayla would be the one to come looking for them if they didn’t appear, Runaan would have tried very hard to make that a reality. Instead, he heaved a sigh, reminded himself they were almost clear of company, and helped Ethari with the bags.

__________

A pair of horses awaited their arrival in the courtyard, along with half the kingdom, by Runaan’s guess. Ezran waited at the front, holding Bait in his arms, while Azymondias half fell over his forehead. Rayla and Callum stood a step behind, and Corvus, Soren, and Opeli were behind them. Soldiers lined either side of the group, while groups of citizens lingered beyond to glimpse the Moonshadow elves. Or, Runaan suspected, him specifically. Ethari and Rayla had become a usual sight in town over the previous months, but Runaan - the assassin, the prisoner, King Harrow’s killer - he’d done his best to remain invisible even under the glowing rays of daylight. His back creaked with his rigid posture, eyes focused forward. He refused to meet their curious and judging gazes. Ethari gripped his hand and squeezed. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “We’ll be out of sight soon.”

Runaan nodded, his next breath coming easier as the warmth of Ethari’s hand chased away the fluttery wings of panic taking root in his chest. “I’m fine as long as you’re with me.”

“Then you’ll always be fine,” Ethari said, and then they were off the bottom step and standing before Ezran and the rest. 

Ethari lowered his head and bent at the waist before Ezran. Runaan dipped his chin but kept his bearing remained stringent. “King Ezran,” he greeted. “We thank you for allowing us to impose on you while I healed.”

Ethari rolled his eyes at Runaan’s austere formality and broke the building tension with an amiable smile. “We are grateful for your hospitality, your majesty - in particular your generosity with the jelly tarts.”

“Ah, yes,” Ezran said, straightening his own back and inflecting a self-important tone. “One must enjoy the royal jelly tarts.”

“Indeed, one must.” Ethari and Ezran grinned at one another before Ezran broke down in a fit of giggles, squeezing Bait hard enough he turned blue.

“We’d be happy to have you stay longer,” Ezran offered. 

Ethari ducked his head again in a show of graciousness, then straightened and looped his arm around Runaan’s waist. “We appreciate that, but we’ve been away from the Silvergrove long enough and are eager to return home.”

“Of course. And you’re sure you won’t let me send anyone with you.”

“Positive,” Runaan cut in, voice sharp. When Ethari squeezed his hip, he added, “though we appreciate the offer. We’ll be fine on our own.”

“If you’re sure,” Ezran said.

“We are.” Runaan’s tone brooked no further room for discussion, and he heard Ethari’s teeth click as he clenched his jaw in frustration.

Instead of taking offense, Ezran smiled. “Callum thought you might say that.”

“Did he?” Runaan drawled, arching his brow as he sought the older prince. His eyes narrowed as Rayla’s hands flew behind her back while Callum’s fluttered by his side. “I didn’t realize we’d grown so well acquainted.”

Ethari’s arm tightened around him, and while his smile never faltered, Runaan saw the pinch of distress start around his eyes. At his husband’s growing anxiety, Runaan smothered his irritation, and pressed his body into Ethari’s side. 

Rayla nudged Callum and hissed something Runaan couldn’t hear. Callum stumbled forward, catching himself as he came even with Ezran. His hands hovered awkwardly by his side for a moment, before he dropped them beside him, and then tucked them behind him, and then moved them to his sides again. “I wasn’t trying to presume,” he said. “I just figured, given things, you and us, um them - the soldiers, I mean-”

“Can I expect you to arrive at your point soon, or should we prepare to spend another night?” Runaan interrupted.

Callum flushed, and by this point Ethari’s hold on Runaan’s hip was causing bruises. From behind Callum, Rayla glared at him. Runaan sighed. “Apologies, continue. You were at the part about me and the soldiers, I assume with the implication that there may be some complicated feelings involved.”

“Uh, yes. That,” Callum’s said. He cleared his throat and straightened, and Runaan saw the familiar flicker of confidence the boy had discovered when facing him on the wall. “You’re injured, and it’s a long trip back to Xadia, and while I can’t say I forgive you, or even like you, it’d be stupid if something happened after we worked so hard to bring you back.”

“Flattering,” Runaan said, but it was more to himself and Ethari than Callum.

Callum either ignored the whispered interruption, or missed it, and pressed forward with his speech. “I found something, well, went looking for it after we talked.”

“Talked?”

“After I shouted at you, okay? I felt bad. Well, not entirely. I meant most of it, but I shouldn’t have said you didn’t care about Rayla. That wasn’t fair. Anyway, all of this is to say, we don’t have to like each other, but I hope we can try to learn, because we both love Rayla.”

Silence followed. Ethari bowed his head, arm lifting from Runaan’s waist to rub at his face. Rayla flushed a spectacular shade of moonberry magenta, and Callum paled as he realized what he’d said. Runaan, with a quiet and precise clip of syllables, said, “you what?”

“Callum,” Rayla said, whispering at the volume of a shout. “Give him the thing.”

“So he can kill me with it?” Callum said, edging a step back as Runaan’s eyes tracked him like prey.

“No one is killing anyone,” Ethari said, placing himself the tiniest fraction in front of Callum in case his husband lunged. “Isn’t that right, heart? Runaan.”

Along the sides, a few guards shifted, restless energy crackling to life as they spotted an opportunity. Runaan closed his eyes, focused on his breathing, and one by one forced his muscles to relax. His shoulders eased, and when he opened his eyes, Ethari nodded at him. “For the sake of everyone, I’ll pretend you didn’t speak that last part, but I suggest we find the end of this exchange with haste.”

“Right, that’s, that’s probably for the best,” Callum said, scrambling back towards Soren.

At first, Runaan assumed the boy was running away, seeking the soldier who’d proved effective at holding Runaan at bay. For a little while, at least. Soren reached behind him, and Runaan tensed, but the blonde lifted a large, curved item wrapped in cloth, and handed it to Callum. 

Runaan stilled, his chest doing a strange flip that almost felt like hope, or relief. Ethari also froze at the sight, and Runaan’s heart pounded in confirmation. He stepped forward without conscious thought as Callum returned and held the wrapped package out to him. “Here. This belongs to you.”

Runaan’s fingers curled around the familiar width of the grip, using his left hand to tug free that swath of fabric. The gleaming silver polish of the blades reflected the afternoon light, while the dark blue grip, with its turquoise swirls, remained cool to the touch. Runaan cradled the bow in both hands, staring at his lost weapon in awe. “Thank you,” he said, lifting his head to show Callum his genuine appreciation. “It could not have been easy for you to return this to me.”

Callum scratched the back of his head and glanced over his shoulder to Rayla. “I - Rayla said that it meant a lot to you.” 

Runaan nodded, expression going soft as Ethari moved to his side. His husband’s skillful fingers trailed across his work, pausing at the subtle notches and scratches in the blade, noting future repairs. Runaan handed the weapon off to him and faced Callum fully. “More than you can know.”

Callum cleared his throat, jumping when Rayla moved to his side and took his hand, her purple eyes defiant. “It was Callum’s idea,” she said. “When you refused guards, we thought - he thought - it’d be better if you had a weapon you were familiar with wielding. Soren helped him find it.”

“You are making a point,” Runaan observed.

“I am.”

Runaan’s lips twitched. When Ethari held the bowblade back to him, Runaan slipped the string over his head and a rush of warmth settled across his chest with it. He looked at Rayla. “And I am listening. Let me go home, take the time I need, and then on my word, I will help you.”

Rayla beamed, flying forward to hug him and Ethari both. Runaan wrapped his left arm around Ethari’s waist, and his right one squeezed across Rayla’s shoulder. As she pulled away, Runaan flicked her ear and his eyes found Callum. “Little princeling,” he said. “What do you like for dinner?”


End file.
